


Clipped Wings

by strange_glow



Series: Virus Prequals [5]
Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_glow/pseuds/strange_glow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 20, their futures are locked in, their lives slowly hardening in to Esset's concrete molds. </p><p>Again, if you don't 'get' that Yuuji is the future Kudoh Yohji, start with Broken Strings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clipped Wings

 

 

Brad walked into the bathroom with his towel and bath kit and nothing else.  Yuuji was spreading shaving soap on his face with a brush.  “I don’t know what’s worse, having to use the dorm lavatory or having to share one little bathroom with you.”  He slid an arm around the slender waist from behind and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the side of the neck where he’d yet to smear soap.  “Just use the depilatory and be done with it.  It only takes a few weeks.”

 

“Keep your evil emasculating cream,” Yuuji rinsed the brush under the running water and set it in the stand.  “I might need to grow some facial hair for a cover,” he rinsed off the safety razor and looked at Brad in the mirror.  “When did you get taller than me?”

 

“About the same time you started foaming at the mouth,” Brad smirked and slapped his flank sharply then let him go.  He took his glasses off and set them on a shelf over the toilet tank. 

 

“Stop, I’ll laugh so hard I’ll cut my throat,” Yuuji said calmly, scraping off a line of foam along his jaw. 

 

“If you’re going to grow a beard, you’ll have to try a _lot_ harder. What is that, a whole month you’ve got there?” Brad teased, hanging his towel on one of the wall hooks and unzipping his shower bag.  Despite being moved to a Senior dorm room, he still kept the habit of keeping all of his things in his dresser, his natural preference to leave no trace of himself laying about just a thing they both accepted.  

 

“Sure, mock me because I’m Asian,” Yuuji rinsed off the razor, tapped it on the side of the sink and went for another scrape.  “While you douse yourself in chemicals to get rid of your inferior barbarian hairiness.” 

 

“Racist,” Brad opened the shower stall door and stepped in.  “I just wish you could have gone with me to Tokyo.  It was—interesting.  I kept wishing you were there with me.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt more like was actually somewhere I belonged.  It was strangely off putting and yet, I wanted to stay,” he added pensively.

 

“Well, it would have been nice, considering I’ve never been to Japan.  I think they’re trying to separate us,” Yuuji drew the razor up under his chin.  “How’s the kid?” he raised his voice to be heard over the the running water. 

 

Brad adjusted the temperature of the spray.  “A complete mess. But Esset thinks he’s worth the effort, so he must be.  His face was so smashed up, he could barely breath though his nose, so even when he had food it was difficult to eat.  They’re going to have re-break his arms and legs to straighten them out as soon as he’s gained some weight.”

 

“Ouch, murder,” Yuuji winced.  “What _happened_ there?”

 

“I’m not sure, but from the looks of him, I think someone tried to put him in a trash compactor,” Brad worked up a foam on his scrubby brush.  “He’s not a talker.  The doctor’s report put him at around seven-ish, but he’s so undernourished, he barely looks like a five year old.  Serious disillusionment of a country where citizens are supposed to be anti-crime and all happily homogenous.  Ups the level of ‘you don’t fit in, therefore we will kill you’ I suppose.”

 

“Exactly,” Yuuji said.  “Which is why my Grandparents got the hell out of Dodge.  Look what they’ve done to the Hibakusha since.  If someone even gets a whiff of a candidate’s radiation exposure history; no marriage, no job, no future.  Same for the people whose ancestors handled butchery and leather making back when the Buddhists had every one eating fish and veg.  Untouchable, just like India.”

 

“Social striation.  Every civilized group has to have its outcasts.  Someone to blame when things go wrong.  Still, I liked the place.”

 

“Well of course.  You’d blend right in; tall, dark and handsome, devastating in a suit.  Me, I’m a sore thumb.  I look more European than you.”

 

“Flattery will get you scrubbing my back for me,” Brad teased.

 

“Then we’ll really be late for evaluation,” Yuuji warned, picking up a towel and wiping the steam off the mirror so he could finish shaving.  “Damn it, I’m opening the door,” he reached over to let fresh air in.

 

Brad turned up the hot water a little.  “Someday, we’ll live in Tokyo,” he decided.  “I’ll feed you on sushi, ply you with sake, and we’ll take that thousand shrine hike.”

 

“It’s only eighty-eight, and I’d rather climb Fuji.  That would be some sort of awesome, to be there and look down.”

 

Brad opened the shower door.  “I’ll give you Japan on a platter when Esset rules the world if you get in here.”

 

“Are you trying to _bribe_ me, Agent Crawford?” Yuuji carefully shaved under his nose.

 

“You’re going to give in when you’re done shaving anyway,” Brad shut the shower door again. 

 

“Damn it,” Yuuji said.  “Just for that, I change my mind.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

“Yes, I do,” he cleaned off the razor and put it in the stand with the brush. 

 

“No.  You don’t.” Brad chuckled evilly.  

 

*              *              *

 

“You’re late, Sarazawa,” the Chancellor stated.  The clock had finished chiming 9:00 am three minutes ago.

 

“Your pardon, Herr Chancellor.  I couldn’t find my hat ( **1** ),” Yuuji stated, chin up, eyes focused on the wall over the man’s head. Said hat was at the moment pinned neatly under his arm in the formally accepted manner.

 

The man’s eyes narrowed at him.  It was an old joke from too far back for this generation. He wondered if this over privileged pretty boy knew that.  With these brats, he probably knew _exactly_ what he was saying.  He scowled and took the folder off the short stack on his huge desk and opened it.  “Yuuji Sarazawa, you are here today to hear the results of your determinations and findings.  From here you will be set on a course most useful to Esset.  You will go where Esset sends you, you will do what Esset tells you to, your loyalty is to Esset alone, and you will die before you betray that trust; is this understood?”

 

“Yes, Herr Chancellor,” Yuuji stated. 

 

The Chancellor looked over the paperwork, taking his time.  “Your talent is very unique,” he said thoughtfully.  “Something we’ve never seen before.  However its level of usefulness is questionable.  After all, the ‘honey trap’ is nothing new, which is what your talent appears to add up to.” He looked at Yuuji.  “What do you think?”

 

“Herr Chancellor,” Yuuji said, “My talent is biochemical, hypnotic and vocal.  I can infiltrate any group and become one of them, compelling them to follow my lead.  With my training in espionage, explosives and single combat, and any further that Esset sees fit, I am _more_ than just a ‘honey trap’.”

 

The Chancellor smirked.  Quite right.  At least he was aware of his own value.  “Your relationship with Crawford has caused much concern.”

 

Yuuji chose to keep his mouth shut.

 

“However, you have also kept him from murdering the rest of the student body in cold blood.  Explain why you have done this?”

 

“A precognitive is an excellent ally to have if one is to play world governments like chess pieces on a board, Herr Chancellor,” Yuuji stated. 

 

“Yes, well, you have ambition, that’s clear enough,” the Chancellor looked through the paper work again.  “Why did you not drop this relationship when his talent was curtailed?” he looked up at the youth over his reading glasses.

 

“He is still a precog, Herr Chancellor.  There is still a future.  I anticipate that one of us will be in a position to be of value to the other.”

 

The Three had plans for Crawford.  So far, _they_ had no quarrel with this deviant behavior.  As Chancellor, he might have his own opinions, but for now, he had to accept that this inverted little clique of two would continue.  “And if you are ordered to eliminate Crawford?”

 

“Herr Chancellor,” Yuuji dropped the ‘good little soldier’ routine, his voice dropping to a warning purr.  “You are no doubt well aware of my family’s position in Esset.  My father has informed me of certain classified information regarding Crawford’s blood line.  Surely, you wouldn’t offend the Three by presuming to harm him in any way.”

 

“So you _do_ know what you are doing,” the Chancellor said just as coolly.  “However, _you_ may be culpable in ending that bloodline.”

 

“I would not worry myself, Herr Chancellor.  When the time comes, it is a mere squirt in a cup.  Science has come a long way,” Yuuji said snidely.  “Esset will have its next generation.”

 

The Chancellor frowned, aggravation throwing his temper off the rails just enough to make him irate.  He yanked open a drawer, but rather than pull out his pistol and shoot the fool, he slapped a jewelry type case about the size of a hand down on the desk.  “You will learn to use this.  It has been designed with your talents and training in mind.”

 

Yuuji picked the case up from the desk and flipped it open.  Inside was a rather bulky watch of the ‘oh look, I’m an action hero’ style, with all the little dials and knobs on a wide matte black metal wrist band.  He looked at the Chancellor suspiciously.

 

“Read the instructions,” the man barked.  “Dismissed, Agent Virus.”

 

*              *              *

 

Brad laughed so loud everyone in the courtyard turned to look, some going for their weapons, others looking for the nearest cover.  This after all, was Rosencruz.  _“Virus?”_ he stated in disbelief, slapping a hand on the bench they were sitting on.  “Who would have thought they had a fucking sense of humor at all!” 

 

“ ’Laugh while you can, monkey boy’( **2** ),” Yuuji said in a very fake Italian accent, pulling the folded instructions out of the jewel case and chucking it in a trash bin.  He looked at them, then turned the paper the other way and frowned at it.  “I thought he was being an ass about my being late, but this is cool.” He handed Brad the paper and looked at the watch now on his wrist, pulling at one of the little knobs one would assume was to set something.  Out came a micro-fine wire.  “Wicked cool.” He let go of the knob and it slipped back with a little ‘zip’. 

 

 Brad read over the instructions, “What are you supposed to be, fucking Spider Man?”

 

“No, Sweetie, I’m fucking you; do try to keep up.  This is high tech extreme climbing gear _and_ a weapon.  I have to test it out.”

 

Brad looked around.  “Look, there goes Chéreau,” he said in a wicked tone, elbowing Yuuji and pointing.

 

“Oh, _have a heart_ , Crawford,” Yuuji looked at him, amused.  “You’re just tormenting him just because he exists.”

 

Brad gave him the fake pouty face. 

 

Yuuji looked at the little dials on the watch and aimed it, then pressed a button. 

 

The wire with a lead weight for a knob shot out with insane velocity, whipping around their unfortunate classmate and pinning his arms to his sides mercilessly as the straps to his book bag were cut and all his books and papers spilled out in the courtyard.  Four other students who inadvertently walked into the wire’s path shrunk back startled or in shocked pain as their clothing or an arm was sliced into. 

 

Brad had hysterics, practically curling up on the bench in a fetal position trying to contain his laughter. 

 

“I’ll have to learn how to aim this thing,” Yuuji said.  “Hold on, Raymond!  Just testing!” he called cheerfully.   “I wouldn’t struggle any more if I were you!  _Give me that!_ ” he snatched the instructions back from Brad’s clenched hand and read them again quickly.  “Hold on, I’m coming!” he called again and went to free up the wire so it would retract without slicing and dicing their unfortunate classmate.

 

*              *              *

 

“Brad Crawford, you are here today to hear the results of your determinations and findings.  From here you will be set on a course most useful to Esset.  You will go where Esset sends you, you will do what Esset tells you to, your loyalty is to Esset alone, and you will die before you betray that trust; is this understood?”

 

“Yes, Herr Chancellor,” Brad said smoothly, with just the right hint of obsequiousness. 

 

The Chancellor’s mouth twitched in irritation.  “Because your talent has been reigned in until our scientists can determine how to keep you from burning out as other high level precognitives have, your usefulness is limited.  You will coordinate operations for field agents.  Do not think this is an unimportant position, Crawford.” He noted the youth’s sudden faint frown and darkening eyes.  “You will be responsible for the success of Esset’s endeavors world wide.  You will alert field agents under your purview to any stupid mistakes they are about to make, and report directly to the Three.  This is to better prepare you for future plans they themselves have for you.”

 

“Thank you, Herr Chancellor,” Brad said.

 

The older man flipped the folder shut.  “Regarding your connection with Sarazawa.  I do not approve.  This is contrary to the foundation of our organization, and a disgraceful arrogance on your part.  If it were up to me, you’d be slapped with a pink triangle and put to work on the farm.  _Have you no shame!”_ he smacked his fist down on the desk in fury.

 

Brad tilted his head slightly, looking at the man as if he were a big fat bug.  “Would Herr Chancellor like me to put a bullet through Sarazawa’s head?” he asked calmly. 

 

Which was exactly what the Chancellor was about to say; that if he had it his way, such would he order.  “Your schedule will be adjusted to reflect your position, Agent Crawford.  Get out of my sight!” he ordered instead.  What infuriated him more was that he had _no way_ of knowing if Crawford would do it or not, the psychotic little bastard was _that_ coldly calculating. 

 

Brad paused to close the door behind him.  “Good day, Herr Chancellor,” he said with perfect politeness and a pleasant little smile. 

 

The Chancellor’s secretary looked up at him curiously as he stopped in front of the closed door and counted on held up fingers; three, two, one. 

 

A crash of breaking glass hit the heavy door behind him.  Crawford nodded his head with a smirk and then walked out of the office.  A strong smell of strong liquor filled the room as a puddle of amber liquid oozed under the door.  Hilda sighed and punched the button on the intercom for janitorial. 

 

*              *              *

 

They were walking across campus in the cooling evening, heading for the gates and the pub, when Crawford stopped short and Yuuji looked at him. 

 

“Can you wait here a bit?” Brad looked at the door to the infirmary, hands in his slacks pockets. 

 

“Are you out of pills already?” Yuuji asked, wondering why he would ask him to wait outside just to fill a prescription. 

 

“No,” Brad said.  “I just—I was thinking I’d check on the kid,” he said reluctantly. 

 

Yuuji half smiled and nodded, then leaned in to give him a kiss.  “If I’m not over here on the bench, I’ve been kidnapped by aliens,” he pointed to the bench set in a little garden nook. 

 

 

 

Brad sat down on the chair beside the hospital bed, rested his elbows on his thighs and looked at the little guy who’s head was all bandaged up, an IV stuck in his arm.  The kid looked like living death, no life in his dark eyes.  If it hadn’t been for a private jet in the middle of the night, the Japanese authorities probably would have had a freak out over his removing the battered and abused child from the country, thinking to do gods only knew what with him.  “Hello,” he said in his still halting Japanese.  “How are you?”

 

The boy just continued to stare at him. 

 

Brad pushed his glasses up even though they hadn’t slipped down and looked around the room, then laced his fingers together between his knees.  “I was eleven when they brought me in.  Not as beat up as you, but they pretty much made me aware of how weak and helpless I was.  Not weak and helpless any more,” he looked at the kid again.  “Just—put up with it.  That’s how it’s said, isn’t it?  Put up with it a little longer. It’s worth it.”

 

“Your name, what is it again?” the boy asked very quietly, his voice made odd by the packing in his sinuses after the reconstruction of his nose. 

 

“Crawford,” he said. 

 

“I am—Naoe Nagi,” he said slowly. 

 

 

 

Yuuji looked up as he came out, and stood up to wait the few steps until they were side by side on the path again.  “How is he?”

 

“He’ll live,” Brad said.  “Tough little guy,” he smiled faintly, his mind not quite in the present.  “I see the aliens didn’t get you.”

 

“I fought them off,” Yuuji said.  “I told them I’d already had an anal probe, thank you, and if they wanted to probe some real assholes, to try the staff dorm.”

 

Brad snickered. “Nice try.”

 

“It’s true!” Yuuji insisted. 

 

“Liar.”

 

“It’s true!” he repeated, hand on his chest to emphasize his complete sincerity.  “Gray, big eyes, spindly limbs.”

 

“Antenae?” Brad demanded.

 

“Up to here,” Yuuji held a hand a foot over his head.

 

“Ah, see?  Liar!” Brad insisted.  “The _little chubby green ones_ have antennae, _not_ the tall grays.”

 

“Bullshit,” Yuuji stated.  “I know what I saw.”

 

“ _Christ,_ I nearly believe you,” Brad laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(1) WW1 to Mad Men Era male code for “I was banging the wife this morning, Boss.”

 

(2) If you don’t know where this one comes from, Yuuji watches too many silly movies.

 

 


End file.
